Petronella Wyatt

Vintage me

The ongoing escapades of London's answer to Ally McBeal

issue 31 July 2004

The other day I was asked by a friend to a lunch party. I told her that, unfortunately, I would have to leave early as I had a very important appointment at three in Westbourne Park Villas. ‘Oooh,’ she said, intrigued. What is it? I duly told her and that was that.

The lunch turned out to be very jolly and I began to forget the time. I looked at my watch and it was twenty to three. Crumbs. Everyone was still on coffee. I stood up and said, ‘I’m really sorry but I have an appointment and if I don’t go I’ll be late.’

My hostess then giggled and replied, ‘Tell everyone what your appointment is.’ The guests looked at me with understandable curiosity as I had begun to blush. ‘Well, actually,’ I announced in a rather loud voice, ‘I have to try on some Fifties bathing suits.’

At this point there were grins from the men.

Comments

Join the debate for just $5 for 3 months

Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for $5.

Already a subscriber? Log in